The Enemy Within
by doylefan22
Summary: Alternate series 5. Gen adventure with some ship...In the months since Morgana last disappeared, Camelot has blossomed into a young, flourishing kingdom buoyed by its new king and queen. But, despite his dearest hopes, even Merlin knows that such peace can't last forever and a troubling vision of the future pushes him into an alliance with a former enemy.
1. Chapter 1

There was a silence in snowfall, even when the ice winds whistled, tossing the delicate flakes about in the air. Snow was peace and tranquillity, and it hid the dead, frozen world beneath under a veneer of pure white, giving it a sheen of undisturbed perfection. The sight was a pristine lie, of course, purity added to a land that was anything but. Morgana liked that she stood out starkly against it, dressed in black and sitting astride her horse on the high ridge, a symbol of the scars that still bled unhealed beneath its facade. Too deep to heal now. Any beauty left in this world was nothing but a fragile shell and she felt sure it would crack soon. She'd be glad to see it.

Her horse shifted beneath her, sensing something on the breeze, but she calmed her with old words and the creature soon settled. The horse had some sense about her and didn't like being so exposed here, where anyone could see them. Most, in fact, would call this careless but Morgana wasn't trying to keep herself hidden. Those down below had bigger things to occupy their attention and were unlikely to look her way.

She couldn't hear the sounds of the battle, no impact of swords or snarl of beast. The silence of the snow had drowned it out, giving her a detachment from proceedings that suited her. She was here to watch and didn't want to think. Her mind had already drifted too dangerously of late.

Not that there was much of a battle left to witness. The remaining amphisbaena were greatly outnumbered by the knights now, the heads at both ends of the beast-like serpents snapping fiercely but ultimately in vain; Arthur was a seasoned tactician and would soon win again.

A shiver of emotion passed through Morgana, eyes fixed upon Camelot's king - her brother - almost to the exclusion of others. Part of her reaction was revulsion, considering him the ultimate symbol of the poisoned kingdom that'd wronged her and her kind so grievously. Everything done to the people of magic had been to secure his throne and his future, and it galled her deeply to know that he'd got his reward on the back of such suffering. There was another feeling there too though as she watched him; a discomfort that'd sat in her stomach ever since she'd first confronted him in the throne room so many months ago. They'd loved each other once, as family, even before they knew that they were. And whilst it'd been easy to hate his shadow or his memory, it'd proved harder when she'd had him right in front of her and she'd seen her own sudden pain at what they'd come to reflected in his eyes. Neither of them had really wanted this but there they were.

And here they were now, still on that path that seemed destined to lead to destruction. Sometimes she wondered if this had always been inevitable. Sometimes she wished there was another way.

Next to her, sitting on his own horse, Mordred tore his intense gaze away from the action below to look at her. He always looked at people directly, apparently having no qualms about peering right into a person, nor any fear about what he might see. It was so bold it was almost unnatural.

His face was as measured as always, a calm mask with just a flicker of curiosity in his eyes.

"Morgana," he said steadily, a voice that was still light and melodious, enchanting even, despite his growing years, "we should go before they spot us."

She looked up at the boy - not that he was truly a boy now, more a young man starting to come into his prime - and forced a nod, breaking through her preoccupation.

"Yes. Of course."

They turned their horses and moved down the ridge, out of sight of the people below.

The amphisbaena had been Mordred's idea; he'd summoned them to attack the outlying village, knowing that reports of it would reach Camelot and draw Arthur out. Unlike his father, Arthur was not good at sitting in his throne room and giving out orders, preferring to tackle a problem himself. He was a man of action and Mordred said he wanted to see what Arthur would do.

Morgana wasn't sure that she saw the complete sense in the plan - believing that it was toying with her brother rather than making strides to remove him from his throne or punish him for harming their kind - but Mordred had a way of persuading her. He always had, even when his words seemed to fly in the face of her own reason or judgement. Every one of them speaking to her, like they came right from her own heart.

Silence only remained between them long enough for them to negotiate the steep ridge and then Mordred turned to her again, giving her a look that bordered on gentle scolding. Like you might give a favourite pupil who you knew had contemplated something unwise.

"He's our enemy," he reminded her pointedly. "Arthur Pendragon has no love for any of our kind; he'd see us both on a pyre or at the block if he caught us. Like he did my father."

"I know," Morgana replied in an instant, a sharp snap to her voice. She was more annoyed with herself though, embarrassed for thinking, even for a moment, that it could be otherwise. Of course Arthur was their enemy; he hated her and she'd be a fool to think any different. If she allowed herself to be swayed by any remnants of gentle emotions, he'd take advantage of that and it would be her undoing.

Mordred was right, and, in all honesty she couldn't remember why she'd briefly felt otherwise.

The young man gave her a faintly curious look in light of her angry tone, silently asking for a reason.

"Merlin," she spat in retort, a false explanation but the twisted venom in her voice true enough, more potent than all the amphisbaena heads combined. "I saw him there, playing his master's loyal, imbecile lap dog whilst skulking in the shadows."

She wouldn't give him the dignity of the name 'Emrys', her blood all but boiling at the idea still. When Mordred had first told her, had revealed that Merlin, Arthur's pesky but persistently lucky servant was the great sorcerer whom she'd been told to fear…. Well, Morgana's rage had been uncontrollable. People in villages miles away had heard her screams and the forest she and the young sorcerer had been living in had burnt to cinders around her. The people said a vengeful spirit had been released and they'd hid in their homes for nights on end, hoping it would pass them safely by.

Mordred hadn't tried to calm her, simply waiting patiently whilst she exhausted her anger, listening to her rant about how Merlin had lied to her, how he knew she'd been afraid of her magic and had done so little to help her. How he'd tried to kill her, whilst keeping Camelot's corrupt and murderous rulers alive. He was traitor of the worst kind and deserved every punishment possible for his crimes. _She_ would visit them upon him.

In contrast, Mordred's feelings towards Merlin were entirely guarded. It was like he had none at all.

"I'm glad Emrys came," he said calmly. He never called Merlin by any other name. "It was a test for him as much as Arthur Pendragon."

It was Morgana's turn to look curious now. She hadn't been savvy to any such plan.

"Even in grave peril, he doesn't consider revealing his powers," Mordred reasoned. "He could have dealt with the amphisbaena within moments if he chose, but instead he decided to let others risks their lives rather than reveal who he is. It's interesting."

Morgana thought it was more like self-interest.

"He just knows that Arthur would at best banish him and at worse have his head if he found out," she reasoned caustically. "Magic is still punishable by death in Camelot and Arthur always was very good at upholding his father's laws."

Laws he'd made no effort to rescind in his nearly two years on the throne, despite the few times in the dim past that he'd gone against them. Maybe he was a better man than Uther - or could have been - but not by much. Not when it mattered most.

"Whatever the reason," Mordred said, "taking Camelot will be difficult whilst Emrys is still there."

Morgana shook her head.

"But not impossible. I've seen what you can do, you're a match for him." There was an odd pride in her words, like how a mother would talk to her son even though the age gap between them wasn't great enough for that. "Together, we could defeat him."

She sounded keen. Morgana wasn't a patient woman and this lack of progress was frustrating to her.

Mordred smiled at her, although there was coldness behind the warm expression. There always was.

"There are more effective ways to deal with someone than simple defeat."

Merlin was in a surprisingly cheerful mood for a man who'd spent the better part of the previous day fighting giant serpents. Particularly considering that this had been followed by an evening scrubbing the innards of said serpents from Arthur's tunic whilst the young king enjoyed the festivities the village put on in his honour. Even when Arthur had returned late, tossing another tunic at him and reminding Merlin that it wouldn't be right for him to address his subjects without something fresh and dry to wear come morning, Merlin had still grinned. It'd be a good day.

He'd had many of those lately and now that their journey home was almost at an end and they were within sight of Camelot once more, his smile grew even broader.

"You know," he said casually to Arthur as they rode down the sun-warmed hillside, "popular legend says that eating the meat of an amphisbaena can attract many lovers. I'm surprised you didn't have me bring some back…"

Arthur gave him a dry look.

"You know I wouldn't be interested in such a thing." He reached across and whacked Merlin on the shoulder, just hard enough to make him have to grab the reigns tighter. "But you can do with all the help you can get, so if you want to go back and fetch some, be my guest."

Behind them, Gwaine snorted a laugh and Merlin turned slightly in his saddle to look at him.

"Are you still here?" he joked. "Thought you'd be racing back to the village already…"

Gwaine waved that insult away as though it bounced right off him.

"I've never needed any help attracting the ladies."

"Really?" Merlin pressed, a false frown on his face. "Remind me again how much luck you had with Gwen…"

Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"Have you been trying to woo your Queen, Sir Gwaine?"

"No," Gwaine scoffed lightly, making it quite clear he wasn't that daft. "I tried to woo her _before_ she was Queen."

Merlin laughed, but his next comment was interrupted as the horns sounded ahead of them; Camelot had spotted its king and was welcoming him home.

The great city certainly seemed to share his current mood of optimism. It was starting to blossom in Merlin's opinion and not just because the last of the winter snows were finally clearing and spring was arriving. No, there was a greater sense of peace settling over the Camelot these days, an air of hope and an excitement for a better future. A new young king and kind, beautiful queen had seemed to refresh the people after long years of tension under Uther's reign. Not to mention the fact that they'd suffered no threats at all in nearly two seasons.

It'd been many months since Morgana had taken Camelot and the High Priestess - it felt so odd to think of her as that, considering the girl he'd once known - hadn't been seen since she'd disappeared, right out from under Merlin and Gwen's noses. Many thought that she was dead, having heard tales of the injury she'd sustained in the fighting and thinking that even a sorceress couldn't survive such a wound. Even if she had managed to use magic to escape the castle - and it seemed likely given that the place was searched extensively without sign of her - her allies were dead and she'd no one to give her aid. Her hut had been ransacked shortly after, Arthur having received an anonymous message about where she'd been hiding, and there was no indication that she'd been back. It'd caused most to agree that she'd escaped but had fallen deep in the woods somewhere, succumbing to her wound where she wouldn't be found.

Merlin felt an odd kind of sickness in his stomach at the idea - pity maybe - but he would be glad all the same to never see her again.

Arthur was a different matter. He'd actually sent patrols out looking for her and when Merlin had asked him whether that was to arrest her or to rescue her, the King had simply snapped at him and told him not to question. Arthur hadn't behaved like Uther once did - wasting precious lives and many months on a woman that was nowhere to be found - but it clearly disturbed him not to know what'd happened to her. And not simply because she was a dangerous enemy. He didn't say anything openly, but Merlin knew him well enough to see the troubled thoughts lurking behind his orders. Part of Merlin was proud of that, seeing it as a symbol of a great man with a capacity for forgiveness and love beyond what was deserved, and part of him feared that it would prove a weakness Arthur couldn't afford.

Merlin had tried to speak to Gwen about it once too, but she'd simply appeared upset and had asked him to change the subject.

Despite what Morgana might have believed, she was mourned by some in Camelot.

Still, her shadow couldn't hold sway on the kingdom forever and as the months had passed, things had brightened. Camelot's new queen was certainly a source of that and Gwen was waiting for them now in the courtyard, smiling warmly at all the returning men, even if her brightest ones were reserved for Arthur. He beamed too as he dismounted, forgetting being the king for a moment and just being the husband, embracing his wife and asking her how things had been.

Merlin was pleased for them. After everything that'd happened - Agravaine's meddling, Lancelot and Gwen's subsequent banishment, Mithian - he'd been worried that they'd never be what they once were to each other. He liked to think that the matter was entirely behind them now, that all was settled, but things were rarely that simple. He saw the tension still there at times, hurt feelings that'd never properly healed sometimes rawly prodded. Not to mention that Arthur still had a blundering ability to be an oaf with his words.

"Anything else I should know about?" the young king joked as he held his arm out for his wife, Merlin following a few paces behind as they all headed back into the castle. "Made any big changes whilst you've had the opportunity? Been busy spending the entire treasury in my absence?"

Gwen shook her head, amused at his teasing. "I tried, but you took the key…"

"Redecorating our chambers then?"

"They couldn't get the pink silk here for at least a month."

Arthur grinned too.

"Changed all the kitchen menus then? Swapped all my clothes for ones of your liking? Charmed all the knights into swearing fealty to you instead?"

Gwen had been laughing but she visibly tensed at that last one, even though she tried to hold her smile, a nerve clearly struck.

Arthur's face fell.

"Sorry," he mumbled awkwardly, realising his mistake. "I didn't think. I didn't mean that…"

He let out a sigh.

Arthur trusted Gwen but there seemed to be part of her that still didn't - couldn't now - completely have faith in that. Lancelot had changed things between them, leaving ugly scars hidden deep.

"Why don't we go and have dinner?" Gwen asked gently, smoothing things over, the diplomat as always. "You can tell me all about your trip."

Merlin spent the rest of the evening serving them - something Gwen still couldn't get used to, barely quashing her want to get up and help him tidy things away. He might have let her just to ease her own conscience, but some in the kingdom still muttered about their 'commoner queen' and it was important that she was seen to be doing things properly.

Even if it did remind Merlin so starkly of how things hadn't changed for him. How he was now more on his own than ever, surrounding by kings, queens and knights when he was just a servant to them. If he'd had a large ego, it would've been galling.

Still, he couldn't help but go to bed in a cheerful mood. There would always be obstacles, but the world seemed more bright and hopeful than it had in many years. Arthur was still wary of magic, true, but he showed promise and with no great threats hanging over them, Merlin could help him see that promise through. He just needed to have a little more time and patience. Then he could tell everyone who he really was.

He fell asleep with a smile on his face and it stayed there until his name was whispered to him in his dreams. Not softly or with affection, and certainly not with any seduction or desire. It was a harsh sound, demanding his attention, and it made him frown for the first time that day.

Several times - half waking, half sleeping, like in a fever - he rolled over as if trying to bat the voice away, but its persistence was absolute. It sometimes faded to little more than a breath, but always rose again, steady and without signs of stopping. It would not leave him be.

It was near dawn, the end of a troubled, restless night, when he finally came to realise that there was something uncomfortably familiar in the tone. It wasn't just 'a voice', it was a woman, a richness in her words because she was quite used to giving orders and having them obeyed.

Suddenly, as though the recognition of that gave her opening to force her way into his mind, he saw the outline of her face in the blackness behind his closed eyelids. Beautiful but shadowed, dark eyes burning into him, almost recognisable but just out of sight. There was a flicker of triumph in her gaze, as though she knew what he'd come to realise - that this was no mere dream. She'd made an impression that he wouldn't be able to ignore.

In the moments before his eyes opened, the shadows faded and he saw her clearly, smiling in triumph. The image was burned into his mind as he sat up exhaustedly in his bed.

Morgause.


	2. Chapter 2

"Merlin, you look awful."

Arthur had never been known for his tact, particularly not towards those he considered friends. Merlin had often joked that he had small reserves of courtesy and exhausted them on a frequent basis, but he was much too tired to make any such quip this morning.

"I've not been sleeping well," he explained simply, continuing to lay out the breakfast things.

In fact, getting to sleep hadn't been a problem at all - it was almost as if he was being dragged there - but getting any meaningful respite out of it was a different matter. His mind simply got no rest, Morgause's presence disturbing him deeply. At first, she was just there - doing nothing and saying little - like her spirit was haunting him out of malice. He'd thought maybe that was her punishment for what he'd done to her. They'd never really known what had happened to the High Priestess, but Morgana had certainly laid blame on him for her death.

Then he realised, after several nights, that Morgause was in fact talking to him. If he focused on her instead of trying to ignore her, he could see her mouth was moving, and he'd started to hear faint sounds. It was a breeze-like whisper of words but too garbled to make out, just as if she was speaking to him from underwater. Caution told him that he didn't want to know what she was saying, but something else - a sixth sense? Foolishness? - made him fight to understand. Strangely enough, he almost looked forward to sleep since it gave him the opportunity to know rather than spend his days puzzling.

He hadn't liked what he'd heard.

"Bad dreams?" Arthur cooed in a rather jovial manner as he sat, clearly meaning it as a joke and not seeing any unease in Merlin.

Merlin schooled himself not to react. He didn't think Arthur would take kindly to the idea that Merlin was dreaming about Morgana's dead sister. Too many raw memories there, particularly since Arthur had convinced himself that Morgause was to blame for all this; that she'd turned Morgana against them. Brain-washed her. Merlin had his own opinion on that but had said nothing.

"Yeah," he joked back, as bright as he could force. "It comes from doing your laundry. Horrific experience."

"Many would consider it an honour to be trusted with a king's laundry, you know."

"Tell that to my nose."

Gwen entered, thankfully saving Merlin from further verbal sparring that he wasn't up to. She smiled warmly at them both, brightening the atmosphere in the room. She certainly put a softer expression onto Arthur's face as she kissed his cheek.

Her happy face fell to a light frown though as she turned her attention to Merlin.

"You look awful," she commented with more open concern than her husband had managed.

"Not sleeping well," Merlin explained again, keeping the explanation vague and uninteresting, hoping Gwen wouldn't feel the need to delve further into it.

She was always smarter than that.

"Is something wrong?"

Merlin shrugged. "I don't think so. Maybe I'm coming down with something."

Even Arthur frowned now.

"Then go and see Gaius," he insisted. "We'll be fine here."

Merlin smiled a little to himself, thinking he must look terrible if even Arthur could drop his jovial ribbing and pretence of not caring.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea right now," he deflected with a playfully pained expression. "I've seen you try to cut bread before…"

"Merlin…" Arthur's warning tone.

The young sorcerer arched an eyebrow.

"You tried to do it with your sword."

Gwen laughed.

"It was very tough!" Arthur protested before pushing that aside. "Now, go. That's an order."

Which didn't leave Merlin much choice, admittedly. He'd been putting off talking to Gaius, not wanting to worry his old friend and needing time to think things through for himself. Perhaps though it was time to confide. Particularly now he'd come to a decision about what to do.

"I didn't know you cared," he snorted at Arthur, gathering up the washing to take away. It would save him coming back later at least.

Arthur smirked at him.

"Don't be stupid, Merlin. I just don't want you spreading your disease around. Who knows where you've been."

Gaius was busy at his work bench, but glanced up as Merlin entered. Immediately, he frowned, pausing in what he was doing.

"You look awful, Merlin."

"I wish people would stop saying that. It's doing nothing for my confidence."

Gaius retorted with a dry look which spoke of no patience for jokes; he wanted to know what was wrong and he certainly wouldn't be fobbed off with words of distraction. He knew Merlin far too well.

Merlin sighed, still slightly reluctant to confess, but knowing he could do with someone else's opinion, even if his own was usually the one he listened to in the end.

"I haven't been sleeping well."

Gaius cocked his head, intrigued. "Bad dreams?"

"Of a sort."

Gaius listened as attentively as he ever did whilst Merlin explained what he'd seen, how his dreams were being haunted by the spirit of the dead sorceress and had been for nearly two weeks, ever since they'd got back from fighting the amphisbaena.

"At first it was just her presence. I thought she was just angry at me and wanted to make my nights miserable but…it's changed."

"How so?" Gaius's expression was serious but thoughtful, wanting all the facts before he made his views on it known.

"There's more there now. Scenes. Visions, maybe."

"Of what?"

Merlin hesitated, an uneasy shiver going through him at the memory. "Blood. War. Death."

"Arthur's death?" Gaius asked, clearly sensing something in the young sorcerer's voice.

"I don't know. Maybe." He'd not seen it - not yet anyway - but he knew that something terrible had happened in that battle. The sky was as red as fire and blood, the ground muddied and destroyed, the world deathly silent. It felt like everything had been torn down and ruined. "I'm no Seer, Gaius; these aren't my visions. She might just be showing me horrible things to torment me or there might something to them."

Gaius nodded in understanding, seeing his plight and knowing why he was so disturbed. "You're right. Unfortunately, there's no true way of telling."

"Yes, there is."

Gaius arched an eyebrow at him.

Merlin looked at him steadily, defiant almost, knowing he wouldn't like this in the slightest but prepared to stand his ground. "Last night, before I woke, she told me to go to the Isle of the Blessed and she'd explain."

There was silence for a moment, Gaius returning his steady look as though he believed he could make the young man dismiss that notion with a gaze of wisdom.

"Merlin-"

He could hear the warning in Gaius's voice, and whilst he appreciated the sense in it - of everything he knew Gaius would say in counter to the idea - Gaius wasn't the one having to live with these dreams night after night. Merlin had one pertinent question in his mind; if he ignored it, then what? Would the nightmares carry on regardless until he found some way of blocking them? Or, even worse, would he be ignoring a vital warning and destined to watch that battle come to pass, walking through those bloodied fields and coming upon the sight he feared most?

"I can't just brush them aside," he insisted, apology in his tone for ignoring what on the face of it would be sound advice. "If something does happen and I ignore this summons…"

He'd never forgive himself.

"You don't even know if it is Morgause," Gaius reasoned calmly, years of experience teaching him that reason rather than orders would be more likely to get through to Merlin. "And even if it is, how can you trust her? Why would she warn you of anything? She'll bear you nothing but ill will, Merlin. I can't believe it would be anything but a trap."

Merlin agreed, particularly if Morgana truly was dead. Morgause's capacity for vengeance would then know no bounds.

"Maybe it is, but I can deal with her," he insisted. "I have before and it's not like she knows who or what I am. If she does try something, she'll get a nasty surprise."

"Well, whilst I appreciate your confidence," Gaius said dryly, "she's a spirit. I'm not sure there's much you can threaten her with."

"Exactly," Merlin replied quickly, pouncing on those words and turning them to his favour. "She's a spirit; how much harm can she do me?"

"On the Isle of the Blessed?" Gaius said in a sceptical tone. "The seat of power for the Old Religion? Home of the High Priestesses? Oh nothing, I'm sure."

Merlin gave him a look, unimpressed. He knew he was taking a risk but it was one he considered worth it.

"I'm going," he said firmly. "I don't have a choice."

Gaius sighed, obviously knowing he couldn't stop him, and resigned to live with Merlin's stubbornness. He wasn't a boy anymore; Gaius could give his opinion but he couldn't expect Merlin to always heed it. Didn't mean he'd be shy about making it known though.

"And what about Arthur? Will you tell him?"

"No," Merlin said with a steady shake of his head. "It would be too difficult to explain without…"

Giving himself away.

Gaius nodded very slightly in agreement. "So what do I tell him then? When he asks where you are?"

"That I have some terrible disease and can't be seen?" Merlin suggested with a smile. "I'm sure you'll think of something and I'll only be gone a few days."

"Hopefully," Gaius said grimly. "And I'm assuming you don't need to be told to be extremely careful. But if you do come back without your head, don't complain to me."

"If I do, you can say 'I told you so'," he promised.

The Isle of the Blessed held nothing but bad memories for Merlin. The barren grey ruins were clearly a place of magic - he could feel it in the air, sense it in the ground and perceive it emanating from the very stones of the crumbled keep - and he should, by all rights, feel at home here. But something told him that the Isle didn't want him here any more than he wished to be so. It was the home of the High Priestesses and he'd had a hand in the death of at least two, possibly three of them. Possibly the last. He was no friend of this place.

In an odd way, he almost felt the need to apologise to it, to explain that he'd done it for the greater good, but he doubted that the spirits of magic here would agree. They were different, he and they. Despite being a creature of magic he'd never felt like he was part of these old ways.

In the distance, he heard a creature let out a screaming cry and he hurried on, taking that as a warning; he should get about his business and be gone.

He didn't really know why he followed the path that he did, only that it felt like it was what he was supposed to do. He should probably worry about that - were these decisions even his own or was he being drawn into a terrible fate by vengeful spirits? - but he didn't take time to think on it as he entered the area with the altar. This was where Arthur had prepared to die and Lancelot had sacrificed himself instead, where the veil had torn and the barrier between worlds was weakest. Yes, of course it would be here.

He wasn't even surprised that the figure was waiting for him.

He hadn't seen Morgause in many years but the weak, shimmering vision before him was definitely her, he knew that before he even got near. As he approached, as close as he felt comfortable with, he saw the expression on her face; cold and somewhat impatient as she waited for him. She'd always been a beautiful woman - hard, but undoubtedly a beauty - but her face was now marred by faint traces of scars down one side, remnants of a clearly terrible wound that hadn't fully healed. He remembered how she'd struck her head against that pillar as he'd thrown her and wondered if it was really that blow that'd led to her death.

"I'm here," he said simply. Which was obvious, of course, but it was said in a pointed manner; he'd heeded her summons and she'd better make it good.

"Yes, and if this Isle was at its full strength you would not have been permitted." Her vision may be weak, but her voice was as strong and clear as it'd ever been. "No one who isn't of magic would be able to set foot here."

Merlin couldn't quite stop his mouth from quirking into a smile. Oh yes, that would be such a problem for him… It seemed that the afterlife had made her no more perceptive.

"Not even the great Emrys," she added, a hint of sarcasm in her tone.

His expression fell, amusement giving away to shock, and her vision got stronger as she smiled in satisfaction.

"Yes, I know who you are, Emrys. As does Morgana. Her rage when she found out was quite the sight, I felt the ripples of it even here."

Merlin chilled to hear that. His secret had been held for so long - only three people in the kingdom knowing who he really was - and it was a cold shock to have his identity discussed so freely. And Morgana knew. He could only imagine how that'd made her hatred for him grow. Unless…

"Is she with you?" he asked, forcing his voice to stay steady, not wanting Morgause to believe that she had the upper hand.

Her smile was near predatory, clearly knowing that he wouldn't like her answer.

"No."

Merlin wasn't ashamed to admit he felt a little disappointed. He hadn't been able to bring himself to kill her outright, but it would have solved a lot of his problems if she'd died from her wound. Now he potentially had even more problems; a Morgana who knew who he was could be more dangerous than ever.

"Then if you know who I am," he said stubbornly, regaining his inner balance, head held high, "you know that an island of magic would welcome me with open arms."

Morgause scoffed at that. "Do not be so sure, young warlock. Did the traitor Gaius teach you nothing? Your magic is not like ours."

"No," he countered automatically, ignoring the jibe, "I don't use mine to hurt innocent people."

"And yet yours is the one that comes from the dark places."

Merlin was instantly quiet at that, mouth tightly shut. He could refute it, of course, but she was certainly right in one aspect; she knew much more about the origins and history of magic than he did. She'd been brought up in it whilst he'd been left in a village where no one understood what he was nor could guide him. He hated that she held that power over him - the power of knowledge - and he wouldn't betray his own ignorance further as he was sure she'd take advantage of it.

For all he was aware though, there were stories that supported what she said. Not that he would believe them. He knew what he felt when he used magic and it wasn't dark.

Except, a subversive part of him recalled, when he'd killed Agravaine. Something he'd very firmly tried to forget for fear of the path it would lead him down.

"The true magic users have always been the High Priestesses. We worked with nature and worshipped the Goddess. Sorcerers-" Morgause said the word as though it were a curse, "are rarer and often very powerful, but the Goddess considered their magic open to corruption. Their power came from the deep places of the earth that no one should touch."

Merlin looked defensive. That may be so, but he was a person, not just some creature enslaved to magic. He'd had a choice and he'd always made the one for the great good.

"I know nothing about your goddess and she knows nothing of me."

"What?" Morgause challenged boldly. "Do you put your faith in Arthur's one god instead? Their teachings would call our kind heretic and evil. They'd have you burned."

"Arthur isn't like that."

"Isn't he? I'm surprised you can still believe that, even after all this time, all these years of waiting for him to be the better man. How much longer will you wait, Emrys?"

"Nothing could be achieved over night," Merlin insisted angrily, not knowing why he should justify himself to her and yet unable to stop. "Not after all those years of Uther's teachings. It was always going to take time."

"Yes, and whilst you played the long game, how many of our kind died? How many were murdered by your king and his men in Uther's unjust revenge?"

"And how many did you kill in _your_ revenge?" Merlin countered sharply.

"If you had let me kill Uther with the Knights of Medhir, instead of forcing my hand with your attempt at murder, Uther would've been long dead and we'd all have been free."

Merlin's hands balled into tight fists at his side, short nails digging into his palms. He'd been played for a fool here.

"Is this why you really called me here? To argue with me? To make me see the error of my ways? Well you've wasted your time."

He turned angrily, going to leave. He should've listened to Gaius for once. At least he'd go back with his head though. A small victory.

"I've only wasted my time if I've underestimated how much you care for your king," Morgause said, voice full of assurance, calling after him before he'd gone more than a few paces. "You'll help me, or Arthur will die."


	3. Chapter 3

Gwen was still getting used to how people smiled at her in the market. She'd always had a good rapport with the citizens here, having known them one way or another for most of her life - clients of her father or people they traded with - but it was different now though. Their smiles weren't just easy and friendly, they beamed at her, children shyly hiding behind their mother's skirts, pointing at her in awe whilst their mothers told them it was rude to stare.

She was their queen and they weren't used to such people walking amongst them.

Just as Gwen - and she was still 'Gwen', finding 'Guinevere' too formal - wasn't used to people bowing to her. When she'd first gone to the market after her coronation, refusing to give up the habit, she'd felt mortified at the stir she'd caused. Everyone had stopped what they were doing, muttering hurriedly amongst themselves, bowing and curtesying. Camelot hadn't had a queen in a long time.

"Don't, please," Gwen had insisted but an air of uncertainty had hung in the air and no one had moved, forcing her to nudge her accompanying knights into action. "For goodness sake, make them stop…"

After that, she almost hadn't gone back, stomach twisting at the thought of causing such a show again. But she'd sworn to herself that she'd work for them, that she'd know what troubled them and be their voice in court. She couldn't do that if she kept herself locked away in the castle.

Now, many months since her coronation, she'd finally got people to stop bowing in the street. A polite incline of the head was the unspoken compromise they'd reached, and it'd somehow made their old smiles warmer than they'd ever been.

The silk merchant came only once a month and Gwen insisted that she wouldn't miss his visit, much to the chagrin of her brother. Elyan had, unsurprisingly, been assigned as her personal guard for such outings, but he wasn't always entirely gracious about it. Like that morning, when she'd told him she wished to go out and he'd pulled a face, muttering something about interrupting his training practice. She'd teased him - as his sister that was her prerogative - saying that if there were more important things to do than guarding his queen, she could certainly find someone else. His answer had been a very dry look.

Not that his being here meant that he felt honour bound to hide his disinterest.

"Now this is beautiful," she said, picking up a ream of the most delicate material and unwrapping it a little, examining it closer.

Elyan, whose attention had been drawn by the girl grinning at him from the fruit stall, looked around.

"It's…purple," he settled upon when it was clear from Gwen's face that she expected him to express an opinion.

She rolled her eyes.

"You could at least feign interest," she said, draping some over her arm to see how it hung.

"It's purple," he said again with a shrug. "And very thin. It's not going to keep you warm."

"I wasn't planning on wearing it out in the middle of winter."

Elyan finally smiled at her, indulgent and soothing.

"I'm sure it'll make a lovely ball gown and Arthur will grin like a fool to have you on his arm."

Gwen looked mildly affronted. "I do want to be more than his decoration, you know."

Opening his mouth as if to say something, Elyan quickly shut it again and glanced sky-wards, saying no more. Clearly concluding that he couldn't win.

Gwen sighed as she investigated the rest of the merchandise, seeing if there was a material she liked more and giving up on the idea of asking for his opinion.

It was very hard not to think of the times she'd done this with Morgana, of how they'd laughed in this market, testing different colours against each other. Morgana always insisting on buying Gwen something. It hurt to remember such times. It hurt even more to remember that the last time they'd met, Morgana had pulled back her sword to strike a killing blow.

She'd said that she was sorry.

It'd been an odd thing to say before killing someone you hated, and yet Morgana had said she was sorry and that she couldn't let _that_ happen. Gwen wished she could understand what she'd meant. She wished she could understand what had happened to Morgana at all and if any of them could have prevented it.

"How does this colour suit me?" she asked Elyan, picking up a dark green and laying it over her arm. She didn't expect he'd be any more capable of answering than he had been before, but she'd rather talk awkwardly than think.

The look on Elyan's face was a little pained as he shrugged.

"You're really not very helpful," she scolded.

"I'm not very good at this. I think you'd look good in anything."

"Don't try to be charming, Elyan, it doesn't suit you."

He smiled.

"Look, wouldn't it be better if you brought a maid or something next time? Then I can concentrate on guarding."

Gwen had considered that. She had a sweet young maid but the girl was very quiet, nervous no matter how kindly Gwen spoke to her. She'd probably look like a cornered rabbit if Gwen ever tried to ask her opinion on something.

"You mean if I have someone else to talk to, you can concentrate on eyeing the market girls," she countered her brother, a fond reproach.

Elyan didn't have a chance to defend himself before nearby shouts drew their attention.

Gwen hurried towards them first, Elyan calling a protest - saying she should leave it to him to check out - before surrendering and following her lead.

The small square was bustling with people and the majority were so busily focused on what was happening that they didn't notice Gwen's arrival. The man in the centre of it all certainly didn't, his arms held behind him by two burly workers, his head forced down as he was made to walk. The sound of his pleas could be heard over the jeering crowd and Gwen could see the terror on his face as he was manhandled, but she couldn't make out his actual words. As someone threw a rotten cabbage though, striking the frightened man in the face, she decided she'd seen enough.

"What's happening here?" she demanded, surprised at how strong and forceful she managed to make her voice.

Many around her were instantly silent and Elyan's bellow got through to the rest.

"Make way for your Queen!"

Gwen marched, head held high through the parted crowd - even if her heart was beating fast and unsteady.

"Let him go," she commanded as she reached the men and their 'prisoner'. Elyan had a hand on the hilt of his sword, but the men obeyed without need for further persuasion.

The captured man fell to his knees, shaking.

"What is this?" she briskly asked again, looking confused and somewhat disgusted by what she'd witnessed; this man being hounded by a mob. It wasn't the Camelot she liked to see. It was the Camelot she thought had died with Uther.

"Begging your pardon, my lady," said one of the workers, eyes downcast, respectful. "This man was caught using sorcery."

"I wasn't, my lady!" the accused instantly protested in a shaking voice, as though pleading for his life. "I swear!"

"He was using it to make his goods better," the first man denounced more sharply. "So he could sell them for a higher price."

"That's not true," the accused pleaded again. "I have talent and I've worked at it, day and night. That's all."

Gwen remained calm, not wanting to incense a volatile situation further.

"What is your business?" she asked the man kindly, trying to soothe his shattered nerves and let him see that he'd nothing to fear.

He didn't dare look at her.

"Furniture, my lady. I make furniture."

She nodded. Certainly a skilled profession, but still one that could be learnt and improved upon with practice. She crouched in front of the fallen man, gently lifting his hands to inspect them. They were still shaking. More importantly, they were rough and marked with splinters. The scars of hard work.

"Do you have any proof of his guilt or just your suspicions?" she demanded as she rose, looking fiercely at the two larger men.

They said nothing.

"So you were just going to, what? Beat him?"

"No, my lady!" one of the men protested, seemingly affronted. "We were going to throw him out."

"Throw him out?"

"Of the city. We don't want his kind living amongst us."

Gwen stiffened. She knew what happened to people who were ejected from the safety of the only home they knew. She also knew what it was like to be falsely accused of witchcraft and to have no right of defence. She glanced at Elyan and then nodded towards the unfortunate man. Her brother understood immediately, moving across to help him to his feet as Gwen turned to address the whole crowd.

"This man here has been found guilty of nothing and the suspicions placed upon him are entirely unfounded. He is free to go back to his home and business and is not to be harmed. If he is, those responsible will answer to the King."

She and Elyan led the man back home, whilst he constantly praised and thanked her for her kindness. He was clearly vastly disturbed by what'd happened and so was Gwen, her heart still pounding. She'd never done that before, stood up to a crowd in such a way.

And yet it wasn't that which plagued her mind; it was the deep distrust still rife in this kingdom.

Merlin turned back round sharply, eyes fierce with anger.

"Are you threatening him?"

Morgause's look was disinterested, dismissing his question as though she considered it both foolish and unnecessary.

"Beyond the Veil some things are clearer; I've seen what's to come. Morgana has allied herself with the boy Mordred and their combined strength will be Arthur's downfall."

Merlin felt the blood drain from his face, a hollowness settling deep within his stomach. He tried not to let that fear show, but he wasn't sure how successful he was. Mordred…the name pierced into him. It'd been hanging over him for years, but the longer that passed without the boy showing again, the more Merlin had begun to hope that maybe Kilgharrah had been wrong. Maybe Mordred hadn't even survived after the raid on the druid camp. He was just a boy on his own after all.

And now Morgause was telling Merlin what he'd feared most; Mordred was alive and well. And powerful.

"Even you cannot hope to defeat them both," Morgause continued, ignoring his reaction if she saw it. "Morgana's powers continue to grow and she's almost as strong as you. Mordred possibly more so. There will be a great battle of their making and Arthur will die."

Merlin wasn't sure how much Morgause knew of the prophecies that he'd previously heard; that Morgana and Mordred would join in a deadly alliance and Mordred would kill Arthur. It'd been Kilgharrah that told him, and Merlin very much doubted that the dragon had imparted the information to the High Priestesses. But where had he got it from? Was it well known amongst those of great magic? Could it be that Morgause was purposely trying to use what Merlin feared in order to manipulate him?

Regardless of her motives though, one thing remained; if Mordred was alive then Merlin had to stop him. He'd felt the cold power in the boy, even all those years ago, and he could only guess at what Mordred was capable of by now. It was an intensity of power that'd frightened even him.

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked Morgause after a long pause, arms crossing over his chest as he frowned.

Her smiled was coldly amused. "Because we can help each other."

Merlin almost laughed in return. No wonder she was smiling; that was a very amusing notion considering their past.

"And why would you want to help me? Or Arthur? You've demonstrated very well that you're no friend to Camelot."

"It's never been a friend to me," she countered smoothly, continuing before he could attempt to argue that. "But you are correct; I don't care for it or your king. Morgana and protecting the Old Religion are my only interests and neither will be served by this current path."

Merlin frowned at her, cocking his head.

"Magic is dying, our kind is a dying breed. Why do you think the Isle is in such a pitiful state? The Old Religion needs Morgana. She's destined to save it, but that cannot happen whilst she follows that boy and his path of destruction."

"It's her path too," Merlin reminded Morgause coolly, his interest in 'saving' Morgana low. His interest in helping the Old Religion wasn't much higher either. "She chose it. She's the one who wants to bring down everything good in this Kingdom."

Morgause's eyes flashed in anger, her body seeming to draw up to a great height, her spirit suddenly brighter.

"And who drove her to that with the hand of poison?" she challenged, defending her sister. "You could have helped her, you and that traitorous physician. But instead you chose to suppress her, to drug her and tell her lies, when she lived each day in mortal fear of what would've happened if Uther had discovered her true self."

"She should've trusted us."

"You should have given her a reason to trust. How could she when everyone in the kingdom stood by and watched the murder of innocents time after time?" Morgause shook her head, disgusted.

"Well, she made her choice, didn't she?" Merlin reasoned darkly, not liking these accusations. Camelot wasn't like that, even then. There'd always been good people there. Whatever Morgause had in mind, how could he even think about working alongside her when she clearly hated the kingdom so much still? "She doesn't want saving and doesn't want my help," he continued fiercely. "And I certainly don't trust you."

He turned, going to leave, not even considering that showing his back to her was highly reckless.

Something cold plunged deep into his chest and he let out a wordless scream, his knees giving way and causing him to collapse. He tried to look down to see what'd pierced him but there was…nothing.

And then a flash, a flicker of a scene.

It was noisy and disorientating, appearing and disappearing rapidly. He could hear the clash of swords and the cries of dying men. The ground around him was suddenly wet with blood and the bodies made it difficult to walk. Thick smoke was in the air, so acrid that it burned his lungs, fire seeming to lick against his skin. He tried to bat it away but there was nothing there.

The white walls of Camelot were charred and crumbled, the once bustling streets deserted and cold, home to no one anymore.

On a battle field in a mass of bodies, a man lay coughing up his last blood. A sword pierced the familiar armour and a boy waited, not even looking at the fallen king, not trying to help nor glancing at his triumph. He stared ahead. Waiting for Merlin.

Merlin who gasped like a man who'd been held underwater as his eyes shot open and he found himself looking up at Morgause's coldly calm face. He was laying on the hard, uneven cobbles, his head aching where he'd hit it as he'd fell and his face covered in a sheen of perspiration. That'd been like his dreams only far more vivid.

"It will happen," she said darkly, not waiting for him to recover. "If the shadows of the present remain unchanged."

Merlin felt his heart pounding and he was breathless as he dragged himself to his feet.

"And you want to stop it?"

"I want to keep that which I love safe. As do you."

It was a link between them, a tenuous one, but one that could perhaps be trusted to a certain extent.

"How do you suggest we do that?"

"By getting Morgana away from the boy and bringing her back here, where she belongs. He will find things harder without her; he doesn't know Arthur nor Camelot the way she does. She gives him valuable insight as well as a powerful ally. We need to save her from his grasp."

Merlin snorted a short shaky laugh.

"I doubt she'd take kindly to being saved." Nor to anyone believing that she needed it. "And why would she give up? Because you say so?"

Morgause was stoic, not answering, and he just shook his head in disbelief.

"Maybe you don't know her like you think. She believes that whilst Arthur's on the throne, her kind aren't safe and magic will never be welcome in Camelot. She's not going to stop fighting that."

"Do you blame her?" Morgause challenged lightly. "There are still laws against it after all. Laws that would see her dead and which your bright new king has made no effort to repeal. Why should she sit around and hope he doesn't slaughter her kind like his father did? Why do you still hide what you truly are if it isn't for fear of how he would react?"

Merlin was tight lipped. He had faith in Arthur, but even that was shaded by doubt at times. He knew Arthur was a good man, but he was one with a past tarred by a father who hated magic, who'd lost both his parents to it, who'd seen his sister fall into darkness because of it and witnessed his city attacked by it. It was a vicious circle of hate and distrust, and even Merlin wondered sometimes if the inner goodness of one man could break that. But he had to trust in it because the alternative was unthinkable.

"Morgana spoke highly of him once," Morgause continued. "She wanted to believe in him, no matter how much her faith was shaken. But no one can survive on such thin belief and he did nothing to strengthen it. I am not convinced of the worth of Arthur Pendragon either, nor am I assured of our safety under his rule. But I am willing to risk what I care about most to try to save what I love. What are you willing to risk, Emrys, to save your friend and see the future you desire?"

He was silent for a few, long moments, thinking deeply. If Morgana was with Mordred, any plan to get to her and bring her back here would be dangerous. And she was hardly likely to come quietly. Yet he couldn't let things continue towards what he'd seen in that vision.

"Why hasn't Morgana seen this future?" he questioned quietly, mind thinking it through. "She's a Seer. She might know what's going to happen and is happy to go along with it."

Morgause looked suddenly uneasy, glancing towards the ground with a thoughtful and troubled expression on her face.

"Mordred is suppressing her dreams," she explained, "only letting her see what he wants. The bracelet I gave her would still permit something this potent through and yet…Even I can't get through to her."

Merlin looked confused. How could that be if Morgana was as powerful as Morgause claimed she was? Mordred shouldn't be able to control her like that.

Morgause looked at him with surprise and then shook her head as though disappointed that he didn't know the answer.

"Morgana's mind is powerful but was unprotected for many years. Magic allows her to see what is to come, but it has to enter her mind in order to do so. Any suitably powerful magic can in fact. A Seer, properly trained from childhood, learns how to secure their mind against such unwanted intrusion, but Morgana was never given such instruction. She was allowed to continue to develop unaided and, intentionally or not, Mordred latched on to that when they first met, using it to convince her to protect him. Now he has great control and influence over her, even if it goes against her own true judgement. He's using her anger and turning her to plans that serve him alone. He has his own goals and will use anyone to see them through, even Morgana."

Merlin was silent, remembering how he'd heard Mordred in his mind. It'd been….uncomfortable. Like an intruder was fiddling around in there.

"I need to get to Morgana," Morgause concluded. "I am the only one with sufficient influence over her and skill enough to break Mordred's hold. She will listen to me and once her mind is clear, she'll listen to compromise if suggested by the right person. I can turn her back to her rightful path."

Merlin wasn't entirely sure he wanted the Old Religion reborn but if it was a choice between that and Mordred…

He sighed, letting out a deep breath. It seemed that he'd agreed to all this without actually saying a word.

"Maybe you can but there's not much you can do about it in your current state, is there?"

Morgause smiled widely, genuinely pleased.

"Yes, you're absolutely right."


	4. Chapter 4

Merlin waited until nightfall before sneaking back into Camelot. It wasn't that hard given what he knew about the place and his abilities but instead of giving him a slight thrill to be able to fool the guards - as it had in the past - he suddenly wondered whether Mordred would be able to do the same. Everything looked more precarious now.

Gaius was working in his chambers, but he tore his attention from his books immediately when Merlin slipped in, the young sorcerer leaning against the wall as he released the tension from all his guard dodging.

"Where have you been?" Gaius demanded in a harsh whisper, annoyed but cautious of being overheard.

"The Isle of the Blessed," Merlin replied with a shrug.

"You've been gone for days!"

"I did have to travel there and back," Merlin reasoned, moving to the desk and placing the small bag he'd taken with him down on the surface. "I trust no one else missed me."

Gaius was still glaring. "I told Arthur you were ill and that you'd need several days rest to get over it. I had put Gwen off visiting."

"Did you say I was contagious?"

"Revoltingly so, covered in boils."

"Thanks."

Merlin started to unpack his bag, saying nothing more and pretending to be oblivious to Gaius's continued expectant glare. The silence didn't last long.

"So?"

"So?"

"What happened? Was it Morgause?"

Maybe Merlin had been stalling; he knew Gaius wouldn't like what he had to tell him and he was tired and in no mood for a lecture. But it seemed he was bound to get one anyway and so he sat on the bench seat - might as well be comfortable - and relayed what she'd said.

"And you believed her?" Gaius asked skeptically when he was done.

"You didn't see the visions," Merlin reasoned his voice quiet a moment, a disturbed expression on his face "I couldn't risk it. You remember what I said about Mordred?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"He's so powerful, Gaius. I felt it then and he was only a boy. Who knows how he's grown, who he's been with, who's been teaching him… I don't think I can face him and Morgana together. Which was a serious thing to admit for someone who'd had such confidence in his rapidly growing powers.

Gaius looked at him steadily before finally nodding in agreement, even if it was with a heavy sigh.

"So does Morgause expect you to bring Morgana to her?"

"No. She'll get her herself."

"How?"

"I brought her back. From beyond the Veil."

Gaius was silent a moment, taking that in as Merlin watched carefully for his reaction.

"But…she'd be a shade, like Lancelot was," he reasoned, going for practicality first rather than arguing the rights and wrongs of it. "She'd have none of her powers."

Merlin shook his head. "She told me how to do it properly. It's…different on the Isle. Magic is different there. She's going to go and get Morgana and then they'll retreat to the Isle and rebuild it. Without Morgana against us too, we have a better chance of keeping Arthur alive."

Gaius was still nodding but his face was grave.

"I hate to ask, but how do you know Morgause won't just side with them? How do you know you haven't just made our enemies much stronger?"

"I don't," Merlin said simply, honesty in his eyes. "But I have to risk something to save everything."

"You're risking us all if you're wrong."

They shared a long look.

Gaius sighed, getting up and placing a hand on Merlin's shoulder, wanting to support the young man and not leave him wallowing in self doubt.

"I'm sure you did what you thought best. Now, let me get you some dinner."

Merlin nodded, quiet and thoughtful, Gaius astute enough to read something in that look.

"Is there anything else you need to tell me?"

Merlin hesitated on the brink of mentioning it; what Morgause had said about his powers coming from the dark places of the world. How he wasn't natural. Every part of his being wanted to deny it vehemently and yet there was still that doubt. There was still how he'd felt when he'd killed Agravaine…

"No," he settled on with a small smile. "It's all right, I've only risked one kingdom today."

Gaius smiled at him a little too.

"Then clearly you're not trying hard enough."

Arthur was surprised to see the two workers kneeling before him in his audience chamber. Not because such men shouldn't talk to a king, but he was more used to dealing with rich merchants or minor lords. Land owners who'd had disagreements with their neighbours or men who felt their business had been harmed by others. Things he, in all honesty, found rather tedious to deal with. He fully understood and respected the fact that such minor concerns were his duty too - that the everyday running of his kingdom was just as important as the larger decisions - but he couldn't help but wistfully look back at the days when he was his father's solider and could concentrate on matters of security, peace and war and leave things like this to his father and the council.

He'd considered several times of late that he might hand this business over to Gwen, knowing her deft touch would be perfectly suited and he was concerned that if he became jaded, he might lose sight of what the people truly desired. There was a fine line between wanting to prove himself a good king and knowing where his strengths lay.

He sat up straighter though when the men spoke, attention fully rooted as they told him about their fears that there was a sorcerer amongst them. Genuine nervous fear that had brought them before him today even if they seemed half terrified to be here.

"Has anyone been harmed?" he asked gravely.

"No sire. We believe he's been using his unnatural evils to produce the goods he sells."

Such terms were the talk of his father's teachings.

Arthur nodded. "Thank you for bringing this to me. I will ensure that the matter is carefully investigated and any punishment given where the laws have been broken."

He would be fair, not condemning a man on hearsay alone as his father might have done - sometimes too quick to act in the interests of keeping Camelot safe. No, there needed to be clear evidence of the use of witchcraft.

The two men shared a look but neither was brave enough to say anything until Arthur prompted them.

"Is there more?"

"The Queen, sire," one man said cautiously. "She…defended the man in the streets. She said he was to be set free and not punished. She forbade it."

Arthur shared a curious look with Sir Leon who stood at his side, but the most senior of his knights gave a small shake of his head; he'd not heard any such reports.

"She's a good woman, sire," the second townsman added, daring to glance up so Arthur could see the truth of that. "But perhaps her heart is too kind."

Arthur sat back, fingers thoughtfully knitted together. It was true that Gwen had the best heart of anyone he'd ever known, but would she really let a potentially dangerous sorcerer remain in the city without even sharing those reports with him?

Morgana turned on her small low bed, looking up at the dark ceiling of the tent. The moon was high in the cloudless sky tonight, casting the shadows of trees over the material. She liked them, her eyes following the swaying patterns, tracing the branches to see the bud of new leaves at their tips. New life as the Goddess returned to the Earth. Morgause had taught her that.

Morgana's throat tightened; she'd dreamed of Morgause a lot of late. Of just being with her, safely in her arms, warm and loved and revelling in the feel of her skin. They lay in fields of long grass, the smell of fresh flowers in the air, dark hair entwining with blonde. She dreamed repeatedly of living in a flourishing paradise where magic was strong, away from all troubles.

It was perfect and when she awoke she felt all the more tormented by the sight of what had been denied her. Of what had been taken from her by unjust hands whom had no care for her or her kind. It convinced her more than ever that the world was broken and it couldn't be fixed. All she could do was tear it down completely and hope that perhaps what replaced it was better than what'd come before. That magic could be reborn from the ashes.

She sat up, mind too troubled to rest, and pulled on her cloak. Perhaps a walk in the woodland would help calm her spirits and at least allow her to get some sleep. Maybe she would dream again…

The camp wasn't large - a dozen tents at most - filled with those loyal to Mordred and herself. Most were magic users who'd been ostracised or threatened by Camelot and had fled in fear of their lives. None had a level of power even approaching that of her and the boy though, and so were little use in their fight. Still, they performed minor tasks well - bringing food, cooking, gathering water, caring for horses, spying - and it soothed Morgana to feel even small amounts of magic still in the world.

She passed one of the fires in silence, feet making no noise against the frozen ground, and she didn't take much note of who was sitting there until Alvarr stood and called after her.

"Trouble sleeping, Morgana?"

The man had helped Mordred much after his escape, keeping him safe as he grew. Even schooling him in his powers until Mordred had quickly surpassed him once he gained true control. Morgana had felt uneasy when she'd been introduced to him again though, when Mordred had first brought her to this camp and safe-haven. Looking back, it was clear now how Alvarr had used her without care, seeing her as no more than a tool. Morgause had opened her eyes to that, her manner and flattery quite different, and it embarrassed Morgana to know that she'd once been fooled by his charisma.

"Nothing that concerns you," she replied coolly, not looking at him and nodding slightly before starting to move on.

He intercepted her, a broad, placating smile on his face.

"Come now, we're allies, are we not? What troubles you, is troubling to me."

Perhaps he hoped to use his charm to coerce her into giving him advantage. Or giving him something else. The notion made her stiff, wrapping her cloak tighter about her.

"What troubles me is no business for yours," she insisted more firmly.

"On the contrary, I hate to see you troubled, Morgana. Your beauty should not be marred by such thoughts."

He reached out as if to stroke her arm, but her reflexes were quicker, fingers catching hold of his wrist in a tight grasp that seemed to surprise him.

"I am not the same silly girl you charmed into helping you," she hissed harshly, giving him a fierce look to go with her blunt words. "I am a High Priestess and you will show me the proper respect."

He looked at her with a sudden disquiet, as though he'd completely misjudged her and his quick mind was deciding the correct course of action.

"Yes…" he finally said quietly. "My Lady."

She still held his wrist painfully tight, her foul mood making her wonder if he needed a more obvious lesson in respect, when Mordred appeared. She hadn't heard him approach.

"Is something wrong, Morgana?" he asked with gentle curiosity.

His calmness shamed her into more rational thought. Alvarr may be a snake but they needed his ability at subterfuge. She let go of his wrist, although her gaze lost none of its warning venom.

"No. Not now." She doubted he would bother her again.

Mordred smiled at her and his affection seemed genuine even if part of her kept insisting that that couldn't be true. That he wasn't capable of it. He reached for her hand, taking it delicately.

"I couldn't sleep and was going for a walk in the woods," he said brightly. "Do you want to come with me?"

Something made her draw her hand back, wrapping it in her cloak.

"No. Thank you. I'm tired."

He nodded, apparently not offended at all.

"Sleep well then."

She took that as her cue and left, returning to her tent, not unwrapping her arms from around her body until she was safely inside. Had she been alone, she might have mused more deeply on her feelings, on the inkling in the back of her mind that never quite let her relax here, but she had a guest and a far more welcome distraction this time.

Aithusa was sitting in the middle of the floor, tail wrapped around her front feet, looking entirely patient and calling softly in greeting when Morgana arrived. She was much larger than she'd been when Morgana had first met her, as big as a dog now and growing rapidly. She made a sort of reptilian purring sound when Morgana stroked her snout, nuzzling her, both of them equally pleased to see the other.

Morgana still knew next to nothing about the dragon; where she'd come from or why she'd helped her in the forest. What little she did know - her name and that she was female - seemed to be instinctive. Like she was meant to know that. Everything else was a mystery. Uther had claimed that all the dragons were dead and, even as a girl, Morgana had found that idea very sad. Now she understood a little better why. She may not know a thing about Aithusa - dragons were supposed to be able to talk but, if she could, then Aithusa was playing dumb and Morgana had given up asking her - but she knew there was comfort in her presence. The sense of a kindred spirit. They were both of magic after all.

And yet, oddly, she never seemed to turn up when Mordred was around.

Morgana walked around to her small table, picking up the plate with the remnants of her mostly untouched meal. Aithusa wasn't proud, finishing off the scraps of meat hungrily.

"I swear that's the only reason you come to see me," Morgana said dryly. Although she knew it was more than that somehow.

Laying back down on her bedroll, she wasn't surprised to feel Aithusa at her side moments later, chirping softly as she settled down. She rested her tail gently across Morgana's body and, whether it was meant to be a gesture of comfort or not, Morgana found it reassuring. It made her feel truly protected for the first time in a very long while.

She slept, dreaming of an isle with a white dragon flying through the air.


	5. Chapter 5

Gwen had never had reason to visit the archives of Camelot before and was all but nervous when she approached Geoffrey, asking to see the current book of law. He'd been perfectly amenable though, not questioning her, simply fetching the book and laying it out on a desk. He offered to explain any terms that she found difficult.

Maybe he thought that, as a former commoner and servant, she hadn't learnt to read properly.

She was gracious in her thanks, assuring him that she'd be fine and that he could carry on with what he'd been doing. Telling him that she didn't want to disrupt him whilst secretly just wanting the peace and privacy to read them alone.

It took her until late afternoon to finish, carefully going over every pertinent declaration and decree. She didn't like what she found. A great many of Uther's old commands still stood. Most of them in fact, making it a crime punishable by death to practice magic or to consort with or aid those who did so. It was specifically mentioned that anyone deemed guilty by the king had no right of trial or appeal, and that the only sentence was beheading or burning, at the king's pleasure.

How could Arthur allow such laws to still exist? She knew that he'd been very busy in the past few months and that he wouldn't want to make drastic changes too hastily, but this wasn't justice. Magic could be evil and cruel, she'd seen that much herself and suffered from it, but this gave free reign for anyone accused to be executed with the barest scrap of evidence. Life should be held in higher regard than that.

Deeply disturbed, she forgot to bid Geoffrey farewell as she left, abandoning the book as she went in search of Arthur.

She found him in his study, a room that'd stood empty for many years and which he'd had restored in order to give him a place of peace to get on with the business of ruling without disturbance. Gwen was one of the few permitted inside and he usually only glanced up and smiled at her when she visited before returning to his work. This time though, when he saw her, he quite deliberately stopped what he was doing.

"Guinevere," he said with a nod, serious but not unkind. "I was hoping to talk with you in private actually…"

She was too troubled by her own thoughts to really listen.

"Why haven't you changed the laws on magic?"

He paused, momentarily taken aback by her bluntness. Then he nodded slightly, putting his quill down.

"This is about the man in the market," he guessed in a tone that suggested he considered himself entirely right.

"No," she said defensively, wondering how he'd heard about that, before conceding that it was really the catalyst. "Well, yes, a little. I wanted to see what the law said about what they intended to do to him."

"The law is quite clear," Arthur reminded her with gentle patience. "Magic is not allowed in Camelot."

"And," Gwen pointed out, remembering all she'd read, "there's no justice or fair trial allowed for those accused of it. They were just going to throw him out on the merest suspicion."

Arthur nodded, listening to her attentively as she deserved.

"I agree, it was badly handled. They should've gathered proof and brought it to the guards so it could've been dealt with properly."

"You mean so he could've been executed?"

"Not necessarily. Banishment is acceptable in some cases."

A very raw spot indeed, but she hid it well.

"Even if he did nothing wrong? Even if he hurt no one?"

Arthur paused, looking at her with sympathy before he stood. He placed his hands gently on her shoulders, a gesture Gwen found part way between sweet and patronising.

"I know you want to see the best in people, Guinevere," he said softly. "It's one of your great strengths. But magic is wrong, it always hurts someone in the end."

Gwen was quiet a moment, thinking of the truth they'd both seen in that, how it had hurt her, her father, his father, Morgana…

"I'm just protecting my people," he added at her hesitation. "As my father did before me."

She doubted he intended it, but that comment served to galvanise her, convincing her that her point was worth arguing. She didn't want this as an extension of Uther's reign and she hoped, at heart, neither did Arthur.

"Yes," she said, looking up at him with steady determination, "and for that protection they're still living in fear and turning on each other at the drop of a hat. I've seen it, Arthur; these people were paranoid and that man could've lost everything for it."

Arthur stiffened, his hands dropping from her shoulders, a nerve most definitely struck. "I know my father wasn't perfect, but he was devoted to keeping Camelot safe."

Gwen might have expected that reaction. She and Arthur had vastly different views on his father, but she chose not to bring them up, sparing his feelings.

"That may be so but this is your kingdom now, not his," she reasoned gently. "Tell the people that times are different, that such harsh methods are no longer needed when threat isn't what it was."

"Isn't it?" he challenged. They both knew what he was thinking; Morgana. If there was a chance she was still alive, maybe she was just waiting for him to drop his guard.

Gwen shook her head, genuinely upset. "This isn't justice though. Camelot should be better than those laws. I mean, they still consider it a crime to even consort with people of magic…"

"Most who do so aren't friends to Camelot. Like my uncle."

Arthur's face held a tinge of pain under the hard expression. Gwen understood that he'd been stung by betrayal too many times to not be cautious, which was why she was trying to be careful with how she worded this.

"What if people are forced to?" she pressed gently. "What if they don't even realise it? The laws would make them just as culpable, but surely they don't deserve death too."

Arthur's sigh was tainted with mild irritation, his patience thinning. He was defensive when being questioned or challenged at the best of times and this was a most sensitive topic.

"The law has to be strong, Guinevere, to act as a firm deterrent. I'd rather not use those laws at all but, if it comes to it, I'll do what I must to see us all safe."

"And has it really proved that good a deterrent?" she asked quietly. "After everything that's happened?"

He was silent, having no answer for that.

"I don't understand this," he said eventually, arms folded as he looked at her with a frown. "We've both lost because of magic. Why would you defend it?"

"Because it wasn't magic that killed my father."

It was his father. Because of his fear of magic.

A knock on the door interrupted the long, silent gaze between them and Arthur cleared his throat, stepping back from her and giving the command to enter. Merlin hesitated as he stepped inside, looking between them with a curious frown as though sensing an atmosphere.

"Er…sorry…" he said awkwardly. "Arthur you're need in the audience chamber. The representatives of the trade guild have finally got here."

They were late; they were suppose to have arrived that morning but were slowed by a fierce storm.

Arthur looked torn, not wanting to leave Gwen in such a fashion.

"Go," she insisted, pushing him towards his duty. "We'll have dinner later."

He nodded, placated, kissing her cheek and following Merlin out.

When he was gone, Gwen sighed, a troubled expression on her face. Arthur was stubborn and in some ways he was right; magic had brought nothing but misery to their lives. But how much more misery had Uther's old laws brought to countless others? Which was the lesser of two evils? And could a compromise be met without jeopardising the safety of the kingdom?

Arthur was left unsettled by his talk with Gwen, sitting uncomfortably on his throne, mind half elsewhere as members of the trade guild introduced themselves and their craft.

He knew that Gwen held little love for his father and for good reason - Uther had ordered her death more than once, had had her father killed and hadn't approved of Arthur's relationship with her at all. Frankly, Uther would likely be horrified if he knew who now sat next to his son on the throne. And Arthur wasn't totally blind; he'd long since accepted that Uther wasn't a perfect man, king or father. But, then, who was? His father, despite his faults, had always cared deeply about his people; he'd wanted to keep the kingdom safe from harm, determined to stop others from suffering the terrible pain of loss that he'd experienced at the hand of magic. And hadn't those of magic proved him right over and over with their attacks?

But on the other hand, Gwen was hardly known for hysterical or irrational thinking. She was one of calmest and most considerate people he'd ever met. And now she was asking him to reconsider some of their most ingrained laws and it gave him pause for thought. Not only about if she might be right, but whether it was even possible. Arthur didn't know how he could do what she was asking without casting a shadow on his father's name and without risking the safety of his kingdom. He certainly didn't want the reputation of 'going soft' and giving anyone out there the idea that they should try their luck at taking Camelot.

Conversely, he couldn't help but wonder if the harshness of the laws drew in those who viciously disagreed with them, inviting trouble. He could wipe out every last, living magic user - or try to - if he wanted to eliminate the threat completely, but how many others would lose their lives along the way? And what about people like the Druids who he'd promised clemency to? Would they just standby and allow it to happen?

There was no simple solution and, in comparison, the business of the trade guild seemed dull and unimportant.

He was almost glad for the briefest moment when the doors forcibly burst open, effectively silencing the man who'd introduced himself as a representative of the weavers and had been talking about the issue he had with silk merchants.

That was until he saw who entered.

Morgause - Morgana's treacherous half-sister, who'd poisoned her mind against them all - strode down the room in riding gear, blonde hair loose and wild, looking as powerful and assured as she'd ever done.

"We need to talk, Arthur Pendragon."

Next to him, unnoticed to Arthur, Merlin paled.

Merlin was so shocked to see her that he nearly dropped the crown he'd been entrusted to hold - Arthur said the thing was too heavy to wear comfortably for long but it was good politics to have it visible - fumbling to keep it in his grasp. Thankfully, Arthur's gaze was also drawn to the intruder and he didn't notice.

The knights only hesitated a moment, shocked, before there was the near simultaneous sound of drawing swords, the merchants fleeing to the edges of the room to get away from the expected battle. Morgause was armed too, a sword at her waist, but she didn't draw it, hand resting lightly on the hilt as she eyed the knights with warning intent.

"Hold!" Arthur commanded firmly, standing. A wise move, Merlin thought; Morgause would likely do them much more damage than they would her.

The King looked at her with a ruler's detachment, not betraying anything he might truly feel.

"I'm surprised to see you; we assumed you were dead."

"I was," Morgause replied with characteristic bluntness. "But that does not mean the same to my kind as it does yours. We're too tied to this world to simply vanish."

Her words seemed near boastful, as if she were looking down on him but, thankfully, Arthur wasn't drawn by such bait.

"What do you want, Morgause?" he demanded, leaving no doubt as to his lack of patience with her. Nor the fact that he had little desire to play games and bandy words. This clearly wasn't an attack but…

Merlin was thinking much the same question. She was supposed to be off retrieving Morgana and heading back to the Isle of the Blessed and had certainly said nothing about coming here. Was Gaius right? Had she betrayed him?

Morgause didn't even look at him.

"I'm here to give you a chance to save your sister," she replied, eyes locked on Arthur.

Her words were carefully spoken and had just the effect she desired; Arthur visibly flinched, jaw tightening. Merlin was convinced that Arthur had inwardly decided Morgana was dead and beyond anything he could do for her now. This was not what his conflicted feelings needed to hear.

"Out!" he commanded, looking at both the knights and merchants. "Leave us!"

The merchants hurried away, the knights withdrawing far more reluctantly.

Arthur looked sideways slightly at Merlin but always kept Morgause in his sights.

"You too."

"Someone should stay," Merlin reasoned in a whisper. "Have your back."

"Well, my back feels much safer now…" Arthur grumbled, but he nodded all the same.

He stepped down from the platform and Merlin followed him - placing the crown on the throne - coming across to meet Morgause. She still didn't acknowledge him.

"What do you know of my… of Lady Morgana?"

Arthur stumbled over the words, looking annoyed with himself, but clearly not knowing what to call her. She wasn't 'Lady Morgana' either any more, but that probably seemed appropriately formal. 'My sister' was currently unthinkable.

Morgause smiled coolly, pleased to have him unbalanced. "Much more than you ever did, it seems."

Arthur flinched, jaw tightening again.

"I'd rather we speak plain."

"Very well. Your carelessness has allowed her to fall under the influence of a powerful sorcerer and she has allied herself with him. I believe that I could persuade her to reason - get her to call a truce with a man who might prove himself an honourable king - but not whilst her reasoning is being poisoned by such a dark force."

Arthur looked…well, perplexed. As he might. He was silent for a long moment and Morgause gave him the chance to think and formulate his next question. But the notion of a truce clearly - and unfortunately, in Merlin's eyes - immediately caught his interest no matter how hard he tried to hide it under cold indifference.

"That sounds like a rather convenient excuse to me," he pointed out. "That her actions weren't her own…"

"They were entirely her own," Morgause said boldly, proud even. "Her hatred for this kingdom was well founded. But if we all live in the past then there is no future. I believe that a mutual truce would be beneficial to all."

"But not to this dark sorcerer…"

"No, but he will be far less powerful without Morgana at his side."

Merlin knew that was a lie but could say nothing, unable to think of a reason he would know that without making himself look highly suspicious.

"And he's…controlling her?" Arthur continued.

"No," Morgause corrected, not seeming to care that she was talking to a king. Although, Merlin supposed, rumour had it that she'd not shown much respect to Cenred either. "Her mind is being influenced but her actions are her own. Only she believes there is just one path ahead of her. Had the Old Ways still been allowed to flourish, this never would have happened. Morgana would have been identified from a young age and the priestesses would have taught her how to protect herself, alas-"

Arthur held up his hand, interrupting her, not wanting to hear a lecture on the past.

"So you intend to break this influence; why would I trust her? Or you. Morgana has made herself Camelot's enemy. My enemy."

"You think this is all about you?" Morgause challenged with a sneer before continuing without allowing him to answer. "I believe I can persuade her to come to peace with you and I think you want the same. If you did not still hold some inkling of care for her, you would have hunted her down already. Are you really saying you would not see you both reconciled if it were possible?"

Merlin wished that Arthur would say 'no', that he'd remember everything that Morgana had done and see that she could never fully be trusted. But he knew the king better than that.

"Or, perhaps more pertinently," Morgause added when Arthur didn't answer immediately, "do you really have the stomach to kill her? Because that is where fate will take you if not."

Arthur was very quiet, his face a mask but his eyes storming with emotions.

"I don't wish for that," he said steadily. "I wish she'd come to me for help a long time ago, before all this had happened."

He sounded bitter, angry and upset. Morgause pounced on that.

"Then help her now. Be the better man she once claimed you were."

Merlin could have cursed Morgause for that. She was too clever by half, knowing exactly what to say to make Arthur do what he wished. Some might have called her 'enchantress' for it. Merlin called her names that shouldn't be said aloud by anyone who considered themselves 'polite'.

"And why do you need my help?" Arthur's expression was grave, arms folded across his chest. He wasn't saying 'yes', but he wanted to know more. "It seems you'd be much better equipped to deal with a dangerous sorcerer than I am."

"Of course," she said lightly. "But I cannot simply walk into their camp. Morgana would undoubtedly sense my presence and in her current state I cannot tell how she would react. I have no chance of taking her by surprise, but one man might, if he had wits enough to sneak into their camp undetected…"

"That's madness!" Merlin blurted out, unable to stop himself. Arthur walking alone into the camp of the man destined to kill him? It was like she was sending him to his death.

Maybe that'd been her plan all along.

His outburst earned him a glare from Arthur, the king not liking to show such weakness. He wanted to seem in control here.

"Merlin's rude and unsubtle but he's essentially right," he reasoned, turning back to Morgause. "It's too large a risk. And what am I meant to do if I even get to her? Ask her nicely to come with me?"

"I wouldn't suggest it," Morgause countered, not appreciating his sarcasm. "I can give you an amulet of powerful magic designed just for her. It will put her instantly to sleep, if you had skill enough to get it around her neck. Then you would be free to bring her back here where I could sever the link that's holding her."

"Bring the enemy into the heart of Camelot?" Merlin scoffed as though it was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard.

That earned him another glare from Arthur.

"What do they say about the enemy of my enemy?" Morgause countered. "She will not appreciate what has been done to her when she learns the truth…"

Arthur folded his arms across his chest again, tight and defensive as he took a moment to think.

"I need more time to consider it," he reasoned eventually, making that a demand, not a request. "I'll give you an answer come morning."

Morgause didn't look that impressed.

"For tonight," he added, "you can stay as a guest here."

Merlin had to bite his lip very hard to preventing himself for saying something again. How could Arthur be so reckless? He knew Morgana was the man's sister and he was well aware that Arthur still loved her, but to let Morgause of all people stay in Camelot overnight…

She seemed mildly impressed with such courtesies, nodding slightly in acceptance of his offer.

"The fact I am willing to remain under your roof, considering your past, should show you the seriousness of my offer. But do not think I trust you; I will defend myself most decisively if I stumble across any fool in my room uninvited."

The warning was quite clear and Arthur nodded before looking at Merlin, indicating for him to show her where she'd be staying with a simple look.

"Very well. Then I give you pre-warning to expect to see guards outside your room at all times and you're not to leave it until I come to see you in the morning."

"Do you not trust me either?" she teased with dry amusement at his caution.

"As much as a wolf in a sheep pen," he said bluntly.

She smiled a little at that, impressed maybe - or amused by his chosen analogy - and nodded before turning on her heels and striding towards the door, expecting Merlin to do as his master had said and follow.


End file.
